


Courage, Strength, and Magic

by truth_seeker_1789



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, I don't know, a lot of metaphors, courage strength and magic trio, imagine whoever as the narrator, is there a narrator, not so much a story as drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 20:25:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9624059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_seeker_1789/pseuds/truth_seeker_1789
Summary: In which the author ponders the differences between three men whose destinies were all but intertwined.





	

##### [the king]

  
  
He was summer skies, wheat blowing gently in the breeze, smile as bright and warm as a noonday sun. He was hope and springs eternal, breath against the lips as gentle as a butterfly's wing. He was strong and unyielding, ocean waves crashing against a golden beach, strong form unwavering and unforgiving in each move. He was impatient and longing, praying for a second glance, touches lingering in polished halls, sunlight playing on his hair as he stared after. His eyes were heavy, filled with duty and faith, his trust as rare and precious as watching a foal takes its first steps. He was as gentle in approach as the petals of forget-me-nots upon the cheek, chaste and pure and memory holding fast even long after the sun had finished its journey, and the moon glowed bright in its stead.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


##### [the rascal]

  
  
He was blazing skies, warm sands caressing unconfined toes, hair the cover of a well-loved book. He was mischeif and booming laughter, breath against the lips sure and steady as a sharpshooter's mark. He was playful and loyal as a stream, rising and falling steadily over each crevice and slope. He was praciticed and unpredictable, knowing smiles flickering across his features as striking as autumn firelight, laughter flowing as smoothly as the fermented barley toasting a successful harvest. His eyes were welcoming, filled with encouragement and reckless abandon, his skill cartography as he memorized each ridge and valley within. He was certain in his approach, surefooted and confident, marching forward as steadily as the scent of honeysuckle gliding late into the crickets' song of twilight.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


##### [the sorceror]

  
  
He was thundering skies, lightning flashing across an eternal landscape, eyes brighter than the pale moon. He was suspicious and tepid waters, breath against the lips strong and harsh in bite as a mid-winter's wind. He was subtle and cunning, golden eyes flashing in darkened woods and gone in the next, calculating each movement with practiced skill. He was patient and trusting, giving all he had, always savoring each moment, moonlight casting shadows upon his cheeks as he crept away. His eyes were calculating, filled with surprise and suspicions, his faith creeping out from the dark winter mists of his eyes with each passing breath. He was artful in his approach, steady as a beating heart, slow in pace as the embers of the campfire drifted into memory, the sun peaking its rising form over a blanket of pine.  
  


 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a drabble. I had no end game. I literally just couldn't get the Arthur comparisons out of my head, and somehow Merlin and Gwaine came crashing through and demanded that I include them, too. I could have been working on my novel, but noooooooooooooooooooooo.


End file.
